


take my hand, wreck my plans

by orphan_account



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, christmas with a sprinkle of gay yearning, idiots to lovers, soogyu goty (gays of the year), soogyu: "idiot" but like romantically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27853486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The younger is a breath away from him, foreheads and lips are close enough to touch; Soobin could hear how Beomgyu's laughter slowly fades when their tender gazes meet. No one dares to speak, but their own breathing in sync, like it's some wordless language of Soobin's mind rioting at how delicate Beomgyu's lashes are.Pretty— is the adjective lodged in his throat. This realization isn't new.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun/Huening Kai/Kang Taehyun
Comments: 36
Kudos: 207





	take my hand, wreck my plans

**Author's Note:**

> title is based from willow by taylor swift!
> 
> and here's a  playlist  too!

When Beomgyu visits Soobin in his house, he acts as if he lives there. 

Soobin has gotten used to it, though. It's no problem that Beomgyu can just barge inside his house on a random day, open up the fridge like it's his own before he even asks, _hey what do you have here?_ then proceeds to get one piece of donut. His home of more than ten years has also become Beomgyu's home since they came to be an inseparable duo in this neighborhood. And that duo package comes in with sharing food. At all times. It's a spoken rule.

"Did you just—" Soobin says as soon as Beomgyu plops himself down to the couch. The first thing he noticed: the donut Beomgyu munching on his mouth. He seems to enjoy it, like he's so _hungry_ , and the taste of honey glazed donut melting in his tongue is equivalent to stepping on the gates of heaven. Foods are more enjoyable like that, Soobin thinks. It's more delicious when it's the only one donut left in his fridge, leaving Soobin nothing but an empty box. 

"How shameless can you be, Choi Beomgyu?" 

"You know this is the only reason why I visit your house," he jokes, "for the free food."

"Next time, I'll charge you with a fee." 

"By the way," Beomgyu ignores his remark. He knows Soobin wouldn't do it, anyway. "What do you want for Christmas?" 

"A plot twist for this horrid year." 

Beomgyu sighs, exasperated. "I'm serious, hyung."

"You," Soobin blurts out. 

Pindrop of silence. They stare at each other, eye to eye.

Then, a realization kicks Soobin. 

Beomgyu gulps his last bite of donut. "Me?" he cracks the silence. " _You,"_ he points to Soobin, "want _me_ for Christmas?" 

He facepalms mentally. _God, get a hold of yourself, Choi Soobin._

He clears his throat, shaking his head. "No, I mean— I mean, _you?_ " He returns the question. A good save from embarrassment, or so he hopes it is. "What do _you_ want for Christmas?" 

Relieved, Beomgyu heaves out a sigh. "Oh," he mumbles. "Cool. Cool. Cool. First of all, thanks for clearing that out." 

"Idiot," Soobin says, rolling his eyes. But it's more of a word addressed to himself.

 _Idiot,_ maybe that's what he is. That's what every person calls themselves when they fall in love with their best friend. An idiot for risking his heart, a fickle part of him, falls in love, despite knowing how treacherous it is. 

In his heart are gashes and wounds covered up in a bandage that never once healed. And Soobin lets it be, for years now. It's Beomgyu, anyway. 

* * *

  
  


Beomgyu didn't seem to bring up that incident again, which is a relief for Soobin. 

Two days after that pure idiocy, Beomgyu stays late in Soobin's house. This happens a lot, and a hundred percent of the time, Beomgyu ends up sleeping over his room. All because he's a deep sleepyhead, and mayhaps a little grumpy when Soobin wakes him up. So more often than not, Soobin lets him sleep beside him for the night — just as Beomgyu prefers it to be.

"Have I told you this yet?" Beomgyu asks. Soobin sits on his bed, meanwhile, Beomgyu allows himself to wander around the small space they both share. He takes his time looking at figurines and snow globes on the shelves. There are books and comics, too, that Beomgyu isn't familiar with. Some are pages so fickle and old, while some are pages he hasn't touched yet. On the top part of the shelf, Beomgyu holds a picture frame in his hand, a smile creeping up on his face at the sight of five-year-old Soobin in the photograph. 

Soobin has been watching him, "that I'm cute?" 

"It's not about you." He says, as he returns the frame on the shelf. 

"What is it about then?"

"Have I told you that I really like your room?" 

"So it's about me."

"Idiot, I said _I like your room._ Not _'I like you.'_ " Beomgyu rebuts. Suddenly, Soobin stops playing with his phone, and stares at Beomgyu. For Beomgyu, maybe, it's a playful joke to counter his remark. For Soobin, maybe, it's funny. Have his feelings been so obvious that his best friend implied he could never return the same amount of love he has for him? 

Soobin gulps, then say, "same thing." 

"It's not," Beomgyu replies. "I like your room. It feels comfortable, warm. Cozy." 

Soobin nods. "Must be the heater."

"That's what I thought too." 

Beside the picture frame, is a small diary decorated with mismatched bright colors, etched with random stickers and doodles of a bunny and bear. Stamped in green, bubbly letters, the front cover says: _Soobin and Beomgyu._ Despite being left on the shelf for so long, the colors remain vivid, the pages weren't dusty, stained nor crumpled. He's taken care of the diary they used to share like it's the most precious luxury item he owns, because it is. 

"Oh," he says, a little surprised. He looks back at Soobin and asks, "you still have it?"

"Yeah." Soobin replies, "of course, that's like, the record of our friendship." 

He takes it, flipping on the first page. It's a drawing of them, holding each other's hand while snowflakes fall upon them. Now they've grown older, spending their seventh Christmas together, and it's like seasons never passed. Nothing is any different, or at least Soobin convinced himself so. They're still an inseparable duo in their neighborhood with a package that comes with sharing food, holding hands, and spending Christmas together. For now, maybe he can settle for this. Maybe this could be enough, yearning for something more. 

"I found a good one," Beomgyu giggles. "Beomgyu-yah, have I—"

"Yah, don't read it aloud!" Soobin rises from his bed, rushing to Beomgyu in an attempt to steal the diary from him. 

Beomgyu feels small, _so small,_ when Soobin towers over him like this: his arms flailing around, catching for the notebook that is only a matter of reach from his fingertips. They spin around, chasing after each other like little kids, bringing their bodies closer, then closer — until Beomgyu pins his back against the shelves, erupting into laughter.

The younger is a breath away from him, their foreheads and lips are close enough to touch; Soobin could hear how Beomgyu's laughter slowly fades when their tender gazes meet. No one dares to speak, but their own breathing in sync, like it's some wordless language of Soobin's mind rioting at how delicate Beomgyu's lashes are. _Pretty_ — is the adjective lodged in his throat. This realization isn't new. 

Soobin might be braver than Beomgyu is, because he breaks the silence first, but never the eye contact. "Give it to me." 

"I'm the greatest gift you've ever had in your life, you said." 

His face softens fondly at the memory. He wrote the letter in this same bedroom nine years ago, and his words still stand. Soobin takes a step back, and lets himself breathe, "that was in 2012 where we all thought the world was about to end!" 

"Hyung, you love me." 

_Of course I do, idiot._ "Shut up." 

Soobin makes peace with it. The diary entries are cringe-worthy, and some are sentences that Soobin couldn't recall himself writing. They both rest their backs on the bed — it's too small for them, too small when Beomgyu takes most of the space and snuggles himself closer to Soobin until he's on the edge of falling. Soobin would have easily complained, but he lets him. It's Beomgyu, anyway.

" _Beomgyu-yah,"_ Beomgyu mocks Soobin's manner of calling his name. "Your mom told me you were sick, that's why you couldn't go to school today. I had lots of fun in art class though, but it isn't the same without you—"

"Stop twisting my words, I know I didn't write that." 

"You did! Look!" Beomgyu shows him the page, and in the end, he's right. Soobin hates that he's right, because he sees his own handwriting say: _I cherish you the most. I hope you feel better soon._

"You are so in love with me and it shows." Beomgyu teases, and Soobin rolls his eyes. Soobin hates that he's right, because being in love with Beomgyu is etched on every part of him, on his fingertips, one that he had always known.

"I can't believe I wrote... _that_ ," Soobin comments after Beomgyu reads his letter, grabbing the notebook from him. "Give me that, you keep reading my entries. My turn." 

Soobin skims through the pages and finds the right one. "Soobinie hyung," he begins, mimicking Beomgyu's voice effortlessly. 

> _February 13th, 2012_
> 
> _Soobinie hyung,_
> 
> _I learned a new song on the guitar today! It's called Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard. It's a beautiful song. My dad taught me the chords and I learned it pretty quickly. I'm a genius, aren't I? Tomorrow, when you visit our house, I'll play it for you._

When Soobin finished reading, he's smiling. He remembers that day, too. A cold February when he heard Beomgyu sing for the first time. "You should sing it again," he says. "I love that song." _Your voice, especially._

"I can't remember the lyrics anymore." 

Soobin closes his eyes, "it's okay. I'll listen." 

Here's one of the many things that Soobin loves about Beomgyu: when he sings, his voice will intrigue you to listen, and the next thing you'll know, it's one of your favorite sounds you've heard. Even now, when he's humming the melody, making up his own lyrics — his voice is still Soobin's favorite, like his laughter so recognizable to his ears that he'll never mistake it for a stranger. Like his voice when he calls Soobin's name, tender and never foreign on the tip of his tongue. _Soobin-hyung. Soobinie hyung._

 _Falling slowly, eyes that know me,_ the lyrics say. Gradually, Beomgyu pauses, his voice becoming quieter, until the only audible sound is their steady breathing. When Soobin flutters his eyes open, he sees the younger asleep. He brushes the hair strands covering Beomgyu's face gently, before Soobin leans closer and places a soft peck on his forehead. _Good night,_ he whispers. 

That night, Soobin sits on his bed while Beomgyu sleeps beside him. On his hand is a notebook, and he flips onto the empty page. 

He begins writing.

> _December 21, 2019_.
> 
> _Beomgyu-yah,_

> _We're spending our seventh Christmas together. All those years had been so memorable, because I was with you and you were with me._
> 
> _You were right, Beomgyu. I love you._

He peels off the page, crumpling it in one hand. 

> _Beomgyu-yah,_

> _In the next few days, it's our seventh Christmas together. Aren't you tired? I don't even know what present to give you any more. I feel like you already have everything at this point. Is a box of tangerine alright?_

It isn't the morning light that greeted Soobin when he woke up, but a pillow crashing into his face, followed by a yell. "Soobin!" he knows whose voice it belongs to. "Soobin hyung, you love me! It's scientifically proven!" 

"Gyu, I'm sleeping." He groans. Soobin could sense a pair of arms embracing him, a familiar kind. 

He rolls over to the side and opens his eyes. It isn't the morning light that greeted him, but eyes that know him. A face he's known and loved for years. "Good morning," he says, smiling. "I read your letter." 

"Let me sleep, it's like, six in the morning," Soobin complains, shifting his body before Beomgyu holds him by the waist and demands to face him. 

"Correction," he says. Soobin holds his breath. "It's eight. And also, you didn't tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"We're doing this again. Writing letters." 

"Oh," Soobin mumbles, his hair falling to place. "I couldn't sleep last night, so I wrote one."

Beomgyu brushes it away, his fingertips lingering on his forehead for a little moment. "We should write letters again. Just for old time's sake. This might be our last Christmas, y'know." 

"Who says it's the last?" 

"Forever, eternity. Those are such heavy words. It's like — a sandcastle you built on the shore only for waves to crash on it. It's never meant to last. You can never have it back once it's gone." 

"Are you ending our friendship?"

"No, I'm afraid it will end." 

"But I'm not going anywhere, Gyu." He says. It's a promise. 

"Can you promise me one thing?" Beomgyu's voice is quiet. His eyes meeting his own. "If I tell you something one day, can you promise me that nothing will change between us?" 

His words are vague, and Soobin couldn't understand what it holds. "Nothing will change, Gyu. We're a duo, remember?" 

(They say nothing lasts forever, but this counts as a moment where he hopes to stay _here,_ with Beomgyu in his sight, a little longer than a lifetime.)

* * *

  
  


Three days before Christmas, the mall has become too crowded for Soobin's liking. He went to the mall without Beomgyu this time, and went with Taehyun instead, who seems to be on the same page as him: struggling to find a perfect Christmas gift for the person you like. Or love. 

In Taehyun's case, he has two boyfriends. So double the problem.

 _Well_ , Soobin could give him a typical, useless, thoughtless gift wrapped in a pretentious fancy box, then finish it all off with a huge red ribbon on top and call it a day. Inside the box, it could reveal a rug, can opener, picture frame, or a clock that barely works. Mayhaps, it could be a box of tangerines. Who wouldn't want a one month supply of tangerines for his birthday? That would do, honestly. 

They stroll inside the mall, entering various stores and leaving empty-handed because they couldn't find the right gift yet. "My feet hurt from walking," Soobin groans. "Maybe if Beomgyu told me what he wants, even just a tiny idea, I wouldn't be struggling much."

"You're one to talk. Both of you didn't say anything specific about the Christmas gifts you want." Taehyun points out. "What did you answer him again when he asked you?"

Soobin shuts his eyes for a second and inhales, as he remembers the idiocy he did yesterday. _You_. That was his answer. It was unintentional, but it can't be undone. Especially not for Taehyun. He'd spent years teasing him about this. "I didn't mean to say it like that, okay?" he protests, "I was returning the question."

Beside him, Taehyun laughs. "How many times have you spent Christmas together?" 

"Seven." He says, eyes studying the tiles he walks on to. 

"Seven." Taehyun repeats, like the number is too much to take in. Has it been that long? "Seventh Christmas together and it looks like nothing has changed."

A bittersweet chuckle. "I'm still in love with him." 

"You are. And it looks like you don't have plans on stopping." 

"I won't. Or at least, not now." The pain on his wound. It could last a little bit more. 

"Hyung."

Soobin hums in response. "Yeah?" 

"I hope, this year or the next, you'd choose yourself. Even just for a bit."

Taehyun's words stay with him by the time they enter another shop. He's much of a better speaker than he is, the thought-provoking kind that made Soobin wonder to himself: he's given Beomgyu everything, has he? The space of his room, of his bed. The jacket Beomgyu borrowed that he hasn't returned yet. His fickle heart, all bandaged up. Even the last piece of donut. He gives them, without thinking twice, because it's Beomgyu.

Soon enough, Soobin finds a hoodie. Beomgyu likes wearing them, because it's soft and comfortable. He likes those kinds of things; one that makes him feel safe and warm. He looks around, looking for Taehyun so he can ask for his opinion. "Taehyun-ah, do you think he would like this?" 

Taehyun stares at it for a moment, then he nods. "I'm sure he would." 

* * *

  
  


It's a chilly afternoon when Soobin meets Beomgyu outside his house to return the notebook. "Don't read it in front of me, please." he begs. "It's embarrassing."

"Aren't you the one who suggested doing this again?"

"Aren't you the first one who wrote in our diary again?" Beomgyu retorts. 

Soobin ignores him, skimming on the last page where Beomgyu left his letter. Beomgyu immediately snatches it from him. "I said don't read it here. Read it when you go back to your room!" 

"What did you even write there for it to be so embarrassing?" Soobin asks, "did you finally confess how you fell in love when you first met me, how you found me _so adorable—_ "

"Excuse me?" Beomgyu scoffs, crossing his arms. "If there's anyone who fell in love between the two of us, it's you. On March 13, 2012, you said: _Happy birthday_ , _Beomgyu. I cherish you the most, always._ You always say that—"

"Again, that was in 2012 when we thought the world is ending."

"So when the world is ending, you'd tell me you'll always love me?" 

It's a playful joke, Soobin reminds himself. He wishes it is, because he could sense his heart beating. The same heart that answers: _yes. And yes._ _I will love you through the end of the world._ Words are hidden somewhere in his lungs. It holds so much weight, he couldn't bear to speak.

Instead, he says, "Give me that." He steals the notebook from Beomgyu's hand. "You should head home."

Sometimes, Soobin imagines a line between him and Beomgyu. A line, here, on the ground, separating them as he sees Beomgyu stands in front of him. The same line they cross again, when they say things that friends don't normally say to each other. It's another thing that the inseparable duo package comes with: neglecting the line, like it never existed. It's not a spoken rule.

"Your house is just right in front of mine, I can stay here for a while." 

"Your mom's looking for you." 

Beomgyu ignores his remark. "Let's watch the sunset together." 

Soobin could hardly say no to Beomgyu. He's seen that throughout their years of friendship. So they watch the skies from Soobin's balcony as Beomgyu plays a song on his playlist — that he has pride in — while his eyes study each color he sees on the skies. 

"Have I told you this yet?" Beomgyu asks.

Soobin chuckles. "Why do you always start your sentences with that?" 

"Because I feel like I haven't told you a lot of things." He says, shrugging. 

"What do you want to tell me?"

Beomgyu looks over to the sunset. "I like the sunset. It reminds me of you." 

"Why? Because it's pretty like me?" He jokes. 

Beomgyu stares at him for a while. Then, a smile cracks on his face. "Look at your shirt," he says. "It's purple. Like the skies." 

"Why did I even expect something so profound from you?" 

Love, a vague word that is as complicated as learning the guitar using your right hand after you mastered playing the instrument with your left. It's being a tenderfoot all over again in a moment where he thought love is something etched on each part of him. It's the same way as Soobin loves Beomgyu; every day he learns to love him, even if it's something he had always known.

Maybe love is like this, too: a song and purple-pink skies, when there is only laughter between the both of them, and realizing he finds solace in these moments too — because of all things Soobin had lost, Beomgyu remains constant, for seven years, and he hopes for it to last a little longer than that. 

He wants it to last a little longer. 

* * *

  
  


The same night, Soobin reads Beomgyu's diary entry in his bedroom.

> _December 22, 2019._
> 
> _Soobin hyung,_

> _Honestly, I regret suggesting to do this again. I have a lot of things to say, but for some reason, I can't put them into words._
> 
> _I hope you already bought something for me, though. Otherwise, that will be so unfair. So unfair because your gift is perfectly wrapped into a box. Made with love and care. Anyway, as I was saying, I just want to tell you that I have so many things that I'm thankful for you. Thank you for staying by my side. Please always do. Know that I cherish you the most and I don't think I can spend Christmas the other way around without you. That would just suck real bad._

  
  


* * *

  
  


Three days before Christmas, Yeonjun got them tickets for the December music festival in their hometown. It's an annual celebration, and they haven't missed it since 2015. Except for this time, three of Soobin's friends are dating — and they look annoyingly sweet to each other, with no respect to the singles around them or whatsoever. Meanwhile, Soobin, on the other hand, well... Taehyun's side-eye as he clings onto Kai's arm and Yeonjun leaving the two of them behind could speak volumes. It's their alternative way of saying: enjoy your date, idiots. 

But it's not. It's not a date, Soobin reminds himself. 

It's crowded. The cold wind blows harshly on their skin, despite being covered by layers of clothing. Soobin couldn't see his friends anywhere. They were out of Soobin's sight as soon as they arrived at the venue. Beomgyu links his arm to Soobin, pulling him closer. Hyung, hold me close, he says. I don't want to get lost. Like always, Soobin does. He holds his hand, palm to palm, and they walk through the concert halls.

It's not a date, a voice whispers. Holding hands is included in the inseparable duo package, too. It's an unspoken rule. 

They've done this before, too. Countless times already that it's considered normal between them. A metaphorical line, here. An intangible thing Soobin established, only for them to cross each time Beomgyu asks him to hold him closer. Each time their mouths are a breath away, too close yet far to touch. He can't let go of this. Not now, not in this moment where everything feels it could last for a lifetime. 

"Where are they?" Beomgyu asks, once they find their spot where there are fewer people. His eyes found the band setting up their instruments. "Did they seriously leave us?"

"I guess so." Soobin shrugs. "Let them have their time, you know, as couples in love." 

Beomgyu smirks. "Took them long enough, don't you think?" 

"Yeah," Soobin sighs. But it's like saying, I wonder when we will be like that, too. Time has taken so long for us. He shakes that thought away eventually. 

The band enters the stage, briefly introducing themselves before they begin their first song for the long, long night. "Before we perform this song," the frontman says. "We are asking you to hold your loved ones close, and tell them how much they mean to you. Because this song we're going to sing, it's called _Fall,_ and it celebrates love. All kinds of it." 

Soobin has been holding Beomgyu by his waist the entire time — he just realized that he hasn't taken his hand away from him since they entered the concert venue. Beomgyu doesn't seem to mind it all, because he looks at Soobin. It's like his eyes almost tell him, _hyung, I love you._

But instead, the words escaped from his mouth is this: "I just thought about this recently," he says. He projects his voice a little louder so Soobin could hear him. "Your future lover would be so lucky to have you."

This counts as a moment where there is so much more to say. Like, _You would be lucky, then._ Or _Beomgyu, you are an idiot. I like you._ But Soobin could only hold his gaze to Beomgyu, thinking maybe it could be enough. Maybe it could cradle words he wants to say. But Beomgyu doesn't seem to understand, doesn't he? 

"Beomgyu," he couldn't say anything, but his name. _I've always been so lucky to have you._ "Beomgyu." 

A guitar sound fades in, making Beomgyu jolt in excitement upon hearing it. Soobin loves watching him like this; His face lights up, eyes peering on the stage. It's one of the many things he loves about Beomgyu, he realizes. When he's excited, you can tell it with how his eyes spark with joy. Like stars upon them tonight, yet so unaware of its sparkle. 

_Wrapped in this enclosure, how long has it been?_ It's a lovely song, Soobin admits. He wonders then, what it is like if Beomgyu thinks about his name when he hears the song. 

"Beomgyu-yah," he calls again, much louder this time. Beomgyu looks at him, a fond smile on his face. "Look at me." This time, perhaps, he can be a little braver than he could imagine.

Just as he says, Beomgyu faces him. Tender gazes, eye to eye. It's all familiar to him, like it's his favorite movie. "They say you should hold the person you love," Soobin wraps his arm around Beomgyu's neck, foreheads touching. Their lips are near yet far enough to collide, he could feel his breath lingering on his skin. The younger closes his eyes, and lets the both of them drown in this — whatever it is called. Soobin lets himself have this moment, this proximity. This love like a hoax. Even if it's nothing like forever. 

_So why don't we fall in love tonight?_ The song says. Soobin crosses the line, and falls, multiple times. He doesn't know where it leads to. He doesn't know if the receiving end could catch him. But it's worth risking for, he thinks. Everything is worth it. It's Beomgyu, anyway. 

_Forever, eternity. Those are such heavy words._ A voice echoes. _It's like — a sandcastle you built on the shore only for waves to crash on it. It's never meant to last. You can never have it back once it's gone._

Soobin closes his eyes, too. "So I want to hold you, like this." _While you're still here._

  
  


* * *

  
  


Soobin isn't holding Beomgyu's hand by the time they get home. 

"The band was really good," he says, just for the sake of not keeping a dead air. "You seem to enjoy their music a lot."

"Yeah, it was good." Beomgyu replies. Mayhaps, just for the sake of answering. 

He didn't look at Soobin, like he always does when they talk. Ears, eyes, and attention, all for him. It's all new to Soobin. A wave crawls forward on the shore, crashing onto the sandcastle. An invisible line, here, on the ground where they stand. It separates them. 

They arrive on the street where they spent most of their childhood. Soobin stands in the facade of his house, and Beomgyu keeps his minimal distance before him. 

"Hyung," he mumbles. Soobin forces a smile, but it never reaches his eyes. "Good night." 

He presses his lips into a thin line. "Good night, Beomgyu. Text me when you get home." 

"Idiot," Beomgyu chuckles silently. "My house is just across yours. More or less ten steps away." 

"I know. But still." 

"Can I hug you, hyung?" It was sudden, but Soobin can hardly say no to him. So he embraces him, maybe a little tighter, and makes himself smaller compared to his actual height. "Thank you for being my best friend," he whispers into his ears. "You know I cherish you a lot more than anything in this world, right?" 

"I know." he says. "I would always know." 

Soobin watches Beomgyu leave that night.

* * *

  
  


Soobin shuts the door behind him, sits on his bed, and starts writing in the notebook.

> _December 23, 2019._
> 
> _Beomgyu-yah,_

> _Have I told you this yet? The reason why the notebook was on the shelf that day was that I was looking back on it. I was feeling a bit sentimental that day, you could say. To tell you, I realize a lot of things. We grew up a lot. I watched you and I grow together. But we're still the same little boys in this neighborhood. Maybe just a bit more handsome, wiser, and taller now._
> 
> _But here's one more thing I've realized._
> 
> _I never knew the exact date and time when I fell in love with you. Maybe because I have always been, since the day I moved into this city and you accidentally threw a ball at my face. That must have knocked some sense to me, like: hey kid, do you see that little boy? You'll give every last piece of donut for him because you love him that much. And I did. I do. I still do. Because it's you, and I can never say no._
> 
> _In my heart, I've always loved you. There is no other way around it. I may not just have the word for it when I was young. But I know now._
> 
> _Because you were right. I love you, Beomgyu. I've been wanting to tell you this._
> 
> _You don't have to love me the same way._

The letter removes bandages on his heart, as it reveals every wound covered up by playful jokes. All of his vulnerability. And it stings, as it could last longer than the years he spent loving Beomgyu. 

The night is spent like this when Soobin couldn't face Beomgyu. Crying silently in his room, tears dried out on his cheeks. Drinking a mix of Soju and beer that he stole from his parents' cabinet. A poor plushie Kai gave him that he holds close to his chest through the night. Taehyun on the phone, listening to his cries. 

"It's like, he showed me a metaphorical line and said, here. This is where you stand. Do not cross it." Soobin says, "and then we hold hands. And then our lips are too close to touch. Tell me, where do I stand when he pulls me closer and I have no other choices but to let myself fall?" 

The other line is still silent. "I hate Beomgyu," it's the alcohol that spoke. He means the complete opposite. "I hate Beomgyu and his stupid smile and his voice and his fluffy hair and his eyes and his lashes—" he breathes, and then, "I hate him, Taehyun-ah. I hate that he told me my future lover would be so lucky to have me when I've always had him. For seven years! Seven fucking years. Is he dumb? In this friendship, he has always been the idiot one. Not me." 

"Taehyun-ah," Soobin speaks into his phone yet again. He wonders if Taehyun has fallen asleep, or anything, because he isn't talking. Which is unlikely. "Taehyun, talk to me. I called you so I can have someone to talk to. Say some—" 

_"Soobin hyung."_ Soobin halts immediately. He could recognize this voice anywhere. It's his favorite sound.

"This isn't Taehyun's voice."

"Look at you saying I'm the idiot one in our friendship." 

"Taehyun, why are you copying Beomgyu's voice? I know you're good at singing and all, but—"

"Soobin." A name tender on the tip of his tongue. "Soobin. It's Beomgyu." 

"Have I told you this yet?" Soobin hears Beomgyu chuckle on the other line. It's his line. "I wanted to kiss you a while ago and I want to kiss you right now. I want to kiss you when I meet you tomorrow. I want to kiss you like, ten times or more than that. But I can't. We're not like Taehyun, Kai and Yeonjun. Best friends don't do that, right? We can't do that, because you don't love me the same way as I do." 

"Do you want me to come to your house now?" 

"N-no," Soobin stammers, "I don't want to see you. I hate you, I just said that a while ago, didn't I?" 

There is a long pause. 

"Soobin-ah," Beomgyu whispers. When Beomgyu calls his name, Soobin relapses. He could never hate Beomgyu. 

Defeated, he says, "Beomgyu, sing for me." 

"What do you want me to sing?"

"Anything you'd like is fine," Soobin says. He can't say no. It's his favorite voice. "I'll listen." 

Soobin places his phone on the empty space of his bed, turning it on speaker. There is silence for several seconds, until he hears a strumming of guitar, accompanied by a soothing, soulful voice. A million tomorrows shall all pass away, Beomgyu sings. Slowly, his eyelids feel heavier, then heavier, as he falls into slumber while listening to Beomgyu. 

* * *

When Soobin wakes up, he remembers everything. The song Beomgyu sang, and how it lulls him to sleep. His drunken words yet sober thoughts. It's a mess. His room is a mess. _He is a mess._

It's the morning of Christmas eve. Soobin has been helping his mom and sister bake cookies, which is a good distraction from thinking about the incident last night. He's been avoiding him for the entire day. Beomgyu must have noticed it, too, after several texts and missed calls of _how are you? Have you eaten breakfast?_ He loves that about Beomgyu. How he can express how much he loves a person without saying I love you. It's the same thing he wants himself to hate, because that's one of the reasons why he loved Beomgyu, and will continue to do so. 

On the night of Christmas eve, though, that's when Soobin sees him on his front porch again. He's holding a box in his hands, which he guesses it's a gift he bought for Soobin. 

"Hi," he says. "Are you feeling better?" 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Can I, at least, go inside your house? It's freezing here."

Soobin sighs. 

When they find themselves alone on the balcony, Soobin gives Beomgyu his present.

"Here," he says. "It's not a box of tangerines, don't worry." 

"You should open your gift. It's nice, you would like it." 

"You first." 

Beomgyu unwraps the gift. "Hyung," he says, surprised as he sees the hoodie Soobin bought him. "What the heck." 

"You didn't like it?"

"I like it," Beomgyu answers. "But—"

"So there's a but."

Beomgyu sighs, half exasperated. "No, I don't mean it like that. Open your gift now, so you'll know what I'm saying."

Soobin opens the gift and he's surprised to see the same hoodie he bought but in a different color. "Beomgyu," he pauses. "No way." 

"Plot twist of the year, you could say." Beomgyu says. "We bought matching hoodies. How cool is that? We're not even a couple.. _Yet_." 

"Yet?" Soobin scoffs, "Beomgyu-yah, what are you saying?" 

"You told me you love me last night." 

"That's not what I told you." Soobin retorts. "It was the opposite." 

Beomgyu inches himself closer to Soobin, his hands finding their way to fix his hair. "You told me you want to kiss me when you meet me," he says, caressing the top of Soobin's head, ruffling his hair. "You told me you want to kiss me ten times or more." 

He tilts his head to the side, their noses almost brushing. "Trust me, I do too." 

Soobin holds his breath. A name is the only thing he can say. "Beomgyu."

"Soobin, can you please not talk for the next five minutes?" He asks, "I have to tell you something."

Soobin places his hands on the pockets of his hoodie. He stays silent, just as Beomgyu asks him to. 

"I love you." He breathes out, like it's been stuck inside his throat for so long. "In a way that I wished you kissed me last night, or before I went home. I wanted you to, I was waiting. But you didn't, and I almost thought you don't like me that way." 

"Beomgyu, that's—"

He places his index finger in between Soobin's lips. Soobin holds his breath. "Hush. I said no talking for five minutes." he says. "Remember those times when I jokingly said that you love me? You would always ignore it, or tell me to shut up. It's a playful joke, I know. But I still needed to hear it from you. I wanted to hear it from you, hyung."

Soobin doesn't talk after that, because he kisses Beomgyu. That wouldn't count as talking. 

It's a peck on the lips, soft and delicate, like Beomgyu's lashes when they flutter as he sees Soobin pull away too quickly. Beomgyu chases after his plump lips. _More._

"Can I talk now?" 

"It hasn't been five minutes yet," Beomgyu says, as his hands find their way to cup Soobin's face, thumb caressing his cheek. It lingers there, a little longer. _Love,_ Soobin thinks, as their gazes find each other — love, it's like this, too. It has always been in front of him. Spelled out in a name he's known for years; _Choi Beomgyu._

Beomgyu tilts his head, their noses brush against each other, before he leans forward and deepens the kiss. Soobin revels in this feeling he's craved for so long; he gives in, with Beomgyu's mouth touching his as it has always meant to do. He gives in to this intimacy they never had in their friendship, wrapping his arm around Beomgyu's waist, pulling him closer. Love couldn't feel more right, now that he's touched it. 

"Gyu," breathless, he murmurs in between the kiss. He feels lightheaded, he couldn't say anything but his name. "Gyu, I love you." he says, "I'm in love with you. There is no other way around it." 

Beomgyu smiles against his lips, as he surrenders his arms to Soobin, embracing him on this cold night with each other's warmth. He snuggles himself to Soobin's neck. Beomgyu has always loved anything warm. 

"I know. I would always know." 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [ twt ](https://mobile.twitter.com/soobeomu)   
> 


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